He swung himself down from branch to branch until he dropped on to the moss and the dead leaves of the forest. Then he moved off, silently, like a big, dangerous cat, skirting the forest until he reached the edge of the lawn. Here, he paused and studied the face of the Schloss. His next move would be dangerous. Although there were no lights showing, he wasn't to know if someone was watching. His thick fingers closed over the butt of the Mauser pistol. He drew the gun from its holster, then moving swiftly, he raced across the lawn and into the sheltering shadows of the Schloss. He paused at the foot of the steps leading to the terrace and waited. He heard nothing: no one shouted: no one raised an alarm.
Satisfied, he climbed the steps and reached the terrace, then made his way quickly past the tables and the folded sun umbrellas to where the curtain cord was hanging. He put his gun back into its holster and took hold of the cord. He pulled at it with his immense strength. It held. He pulled again: again it held.
Placing his feet against the face of the wall, he began a slow, steady walk up to the first balcony. Here he paused, gripping the balcony rail with his left hand, his feet wedged into the back of one of the dragonheads that decorated the wall. He listened and waited, then moved to the second balcony. The climb to him was easy. He was a man of tremendous strength and fitness. He was also nerveless. The thought that the rope might break and he would crash to his death meant nothing to him.
By stages, he finally reached the fifth floor balcony, swung his legs over the rail and paused before the open shutter and the open window.
He had come up silently, but he knew Girland had a highly developed sense of hearing. To walk into the black darkness of the room would be asking for trouble. He remained on the balcony, listening, but heard nothing. Girland could be near, out of sight, thinking one of the count's men had come up by way of the rope.
'Girland ... this is Malik,' Malik said in his guttural English. He pitched his voice softly. 'Girland... this is Malik.'
He waited. There was silence. Slowly, he moved forward, turning on his powerful flashlight. The white beam lit up some of the room. He stood in the doorway, sending the beam of the flashlight to the four-poster bed, then around the room. Satisfied the room was empty, he entered.
He stood in the middle of the room. So Girland had arranged his red herring and had left the room. Malik nodded his approval. But where was he?
Malik went silently to the door, eased it open and immediately stiffened when he saw a faint, flickering light in the corridor. He looked out, watched the sleeping guard for several moments, then moved silently into the corridor.
Doors faced him. Somewhere on this floor, Malik reasoned, Girland, with the girl, was hiding. He hesitated. He had to be careful not to wake the sleeping guard. He couldn't go from room to room, calling Girland. It would be unwise to enter any room, without first alerting Girland who he was. Finally, he decided to get as far away as he could from the sleeping guard and find himself a hiding-place.
He moved silently down the corridor until he reached the double doors at the far end. He looked back, assured himself the guard was still sleeping, then eased open the door. Here he paused, listened, heard nothing, then he stepped, into the darkness of a vast banqueting hall.
chapter eight
The sun came up from behind the hills, first lighting the tops of the trees and then the turrets of the Schloss.
Hans von Goltz had been shaven by his valet, and was now putting on a leather-hunting jacket as he paced the vast floor of his bedroom. The shutters had been thrown open. The May air was sharp but pleasant. The first rays of the sun came into the room, lighting the tapestries on the walls and the splendid Persian carpet on the floor.
His breakfast, on a wheel trolley, stood in a ribbon of sun. Silver covers kept the two dishes warm. Von Goltz considered breakfast the most important meal of the day. As soon as he had shrugged himself into his coat, he went to the trolley and lifted first one and then the other silver cover: scrambled eggs, done lightly with plenty of butter, surrounded a fillet of smoked haddock. Lambs' kidneys with creamed potatoes in the second dish also pleased his eyes.
He helped himself liberally and began his breakfast. While he was enjoying his kidneys, the fish demolished -there came a tap on the door. Frowning, he called to come in.
Sandeuer bowed his way through the doorway.
'Your Excellency... excuse me, please, but you should know there is a rope hanging from the fifth floor balcony.'
Von Goltz shovelled another kidney, covered with potato into his mouth as he glared at Sandeuer. When he could finally speak, he said, 'A rope? What do you mean?'
'A curtain rope... if your Excellency would look... you will see for yourself.’ Von Goltz got to his feet, snatching up a square of buttered toast and moved on to the balcony. He bit into the toast as he regarded the knotted curtain cord. Then he returned to the room.
'Have you told Mr Silk?'
'No, your Excellency.'
'Then tell him. Ask him to come here immediately.'
Sandeuer bowed and withdrew.
Realising his breakfast was about to be interrupted, von Goltz proceeded to bolt down the remaining kidneys. Then buttering more toast, he spread the toast heavily with cherry jam and began to eat so rapidly he nearly choked himself.
He was still munching when his door swung open and Lu Silk came in.
Silk was wearing a black shirt, black cotton trousers and black shoes. Von Goltz thought he looked like the impersonation of death. Silk paused in the doorway and stared at von Goltz with his cold, single eye.
'You have seen the rope?' von Goltz asked, gulping down the last of his toast.
'Oh, sure.' Silk moved into the room. 'I saw it half an hour ago.'
'So you were right! They were here last night, and now they have escaped into the forest.'
'Could be.' Silk sat down and lit a cigarette. 'It's light enough now. You had better get the search organised.'
Von Goltz moved around the room. His hurried breakfast had given him indigestion. He wished he hadn't eaten so quickly.
'As they are in the forest, there is no point wasting time searching here.'
'Go ahead,' Silk said, letting smoke drift down his nostrils.
Von Goltz stalked to the door, opened it and found Sandeuer waiting in the corridor.
'Begin the search,' he snapped. 'They are somewhere in the forest. Bring them back here. I don't have to tell you what to do. Find them!'
'Yes, Excellency,' Sandeuer said, but as he was about to leave Silk appeared behind von Goltz.
'Wait.' Silk put his hand on von Goltz's arm and drew him back into the room. He shut the door. 'I have an idea. I want you to go with your men. I want everyone out of here and into the forest.'
Von Goltz stared at him.
'What do you mean?'
Silk stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the breakfast trolley.
'I think they are still here,' he said. 'The quickest way to find them is for them to think everyone here is searching the forest.'
'Still here?'
'Why not?' There was an impatient note in Silk's voice. 'Have you looked at the rope? A man could get down it, but no woman could. As we have already sealed off each landing, they will be up on the fifth floor. I take it there is no other way down from the fifth floor except by the main staircase.'
'That's right.'
'So they are still up there.'
Von Goltz rubbed the back of his neck while he thought. 'Then I will send my men to the fifth floor and we will get them,' he said finally. 'Why waste time searching the forest?'
Silk smiled: it was an evil smile that made von Goltz flinch. 'We won't be wasting time... we will be taking precautions.'
‘I’m afraid I don't understand. If you are so sure they are on the fifth floor, then with enough men, we will have them.'
'And then what?'
The two men looked at each other.
'I still don't understand,' von Goltz s
aid after a long pause. 'You have a staff of forty men, perhaps more?'
'The staff is thirty-eight men and five women. What does that have to do with it?'
‘I want all your men out in the forest,' Silk said, lighting another cigarette. 'The women must also leave. I want this place completely evacuated.' His thin, cruel face was expressionless. 'What the eye doesn't see, a Judge doesn't know about.'
'What do you intend to do?'
'Get rid of Girland. We will keep the girl until the films arrive. It is possible Rosnold was lying. When we have the films, then I will get rid of her.'
'You mean you intend to stay here completely on your own?' von Goltz asked uneasily. 'Is that wise? We have been warned about Girland.'
Silk sneered.
'He is unarmed, I can handle him. All I have to do, once the place is evacuated, is to wait, out of sight. He needs two things: food and the possible use of a telephone. For both these, he has to come down the stairs. I'll be waiting for him.'
'Are you sure you shouldn't have two or three of my men with you?'
Silk studied von Goltz.
'Can you guarantee none of them would talk later?'
Von Goltz saw the point.
'I see . . . there is always that risk. When you have got rid of Girland... what do you do with him?'
'With the body?' Silk smiled. 'I have been studying the interesting plan of the Schloss you lent me. Is there water in the well in the rear courtyard?'
'Yes .. .it is never used, but there is quite a lot of water.'
'Well then, what better place? The girl, once we have the films, can go the same way.'
Von Goltz felt a little sick. He wiped his sweating hands on his handkerchief. The casual, cold-blooded way this man talked shocked him.
'Well... I - I will leave it to you.'
'How will you get rid of your women staff?'
Von Goltz hesitated while he thought.
'There is a fair on at Garmisch. I'll send them there.'
Silk nodded.
'Then let's get started. First, get rid of the women.' Von Goltz looked at his watch.
'It's not eight-thirty yet. This will take time. You know what women are.'
'Then get your men into the forest. Let's start something!' Silk said impatiently.
Von Goltz went into the corridor to give his orders to Sandeuer.
When Sandeuer heard that the women staff were to be taken to the fair at Garmisch, he gaped at von Goltz. 'But your lunch, Excellency ... the rooms are yet to be done.'
Von Goltz waved him away.
'Never mind! I want everyone out of here. Arrange it and arrange it quickly!'
Because he knew better than to argue with his master, Sandeuer hurried away to obey his orders.
There was an uproar and a great deal of heated talk from the chef and his staff when they were told that they were to go out into the forest to look for two missing guests. The chef, an enormously fat Frenchman, declared he was not going.
He was about to prepare a complicated sauce and he had no intention of going out all day into the forest. It was only when Sandeuer threatened to call the count that the chef was finally convinced that for once his culinary expertise had to take second place. Red faced and furious, he tore off his white uniform and put on his green livery. Half an hour later the exodus from the Schloss began. From every quarter, men left and headed across the vast expanse of lawn towards the distant acres of the forest.
Later, five women, chattering and excited, left by car, heading towards Garmisch.
Sandeuer, sweating but triumphant, came up to the first floor to report that his master's orders had been obeyed.
Von Goltz told him to wait in the corridor. He shut the door and regarded Silk who was lighting yet another cigarette.
'Then I leave you?' he said.
'Yes. I have the place to myself?'
'All the staff has gone. You are quite sure you don't want me to stay with you?' von Goltz asked reluctantly.
Silk smiled mirthlessly.
'Do you want to?'
'I want this operation to be a success.'
'I didn't ask you that.' Silk lowered his voice and stared at von Goltz with his hard, single eye. 'Do you want to be an accessory to murder?'
Von Goltz lost colour. His mind went back into the past and the terror he had known until Radnitz had saved him. He turned and walked out of the room and joined Sandeuer.
'Let us see what the men are doing,' he snapped and strode down the stairs to the terrace.
Silk got silently to his feet. He went swiftly to his room. From his suitcase he took a 7.65 mm Luger automatic. He checked the magazine, then holding it in his hand, he went silently down the corridor, down the stairs and into the main living room. He opened the double door leading into the hall and to the foot of the staircase.
Silently, he moved a chair so that he could just see the stairs when he sat in the chair without being seen himself. He guessed he would have a long wait, but he was used to waiting.
Sooner or later, Girland would come down the stairs and then he would have him.
* * *
Girland had heard the door of the banqueting hall ease open. It had opened so gently, Gilly didn't hear it. Girland put his hand on her arm and his left hand touched her lips in a signal to keep silent. He felt her stiffen against him.
He could see nothing in the darkness. His hand closed around the butt of his pistol. He heard the door ease shut.
There was a long pause, then a voice whispered out of the darkness: 'Girland... this is Malik.'
For a brief moment Girland was so startled, he remained motionless. Malik! Here? He had immediately recognised the guttural voice.
He pressed Gilly behind him. Then he thumbed back the safety-catch on his gun. The little snick of the catch made a loud noise in the vast silence of the room.
'Don't move,' Girland said. ‘I have a gun in my hand.'
'Don't you recognise my voice, Girland?' Malik asked. 'You don't need the gun.'
Girland snapped on his flashlight. The small, powerful beam hit the double doors, shifted to the right and centred on Malik who was standing against the rail, his hands raised.
Gilly caught her breath at the sight of this giant of a man and she retreated.
Girland lowered the beam of his flashlight so it didn't dazzle Malik.
'You're the last person I expected to see, Comrade,' he said. 'What are you doing here?'
'It seemed to me,' Malik said, 'that you needed help.'
Girland laughed.
'An understatement.' He paused and looked thoughtfully at Malik. 'Since when have you wanted to help me?'
'I owe you something.'
Girland's puzzled expression cleared.
'I get it... last time we parted you promised to buy me a drink. Is this your idea of a drink?'
'Call it that if you like. I'm here to help.'
Girland walked down the vast room, keeping his flashlight's beam on Malik's legs until he reached him. He put his gun back in his hip pocket and offered his hand.
'It's quite a time ... I've missed you.'
The two men shook hands.
'I think I have also missed you,' Malik said. 'At least when we were fighting against each other, it was amusing. Since last time we met, life hasn't been amusing.'
They were speaking so quietly that Gilly who was crouched against the far wall, couldn't hear what they were saying.
This silver-haired giant scared her. Seeing Girland walk towards him and then shake hands with him did nothing to allay her fears.
'You' d better meet Gillian Sherman,' Girland said.
They joined Gilly at the far end of the room. With Girland holding the flashlight so they could all see each other, he made the introductions.
'Gilly, I want you to meet an old enemy of mine of the Soviet Intelligence. His name is Malik: a name that is as infamous as it is famous.'
Gilly looked at Malik with horror. He regarded h
er with his flat evil green eyes with the indifference of a man regarding a hole in a wall.
'Malik, this is Gillian Sherman, the daughter of the possible future President of the United States,' Girland went on, enjoying himself. 'Shake hands nicely and let's be sociable.'
Gilly backed away while Malik thrust his hands in his pockets.
'I know all about her,' Malik said in German. 'I want to talk to you.’ He paused, then went on, 'Can she understand German?'
'No... French but no German.'
'Good.' Malik took out his flashlight, turned it on and walked halfway down the room. He sat down in one of the high back leather chairs and lit a cigarette.
'He wants to talk to me,' Girland said to Gilly. 'There's nothing to be scared about. Sit there and wait for me.' He led her to a chair against the far wall.
‘I'm frightened of that man... he's evil.'
'Just relax. I know a lot more about him than you do.' The conversation was carried on in whispers. 'Sit down and leave this to me.'
'You're so goddamn cocky, aren't you?' Gilly exploded in a furious whisper. 'You're so sure of yourself? I tell you he's evil!'
Girland felt for her face, pinched her chin in his forefinger and thumb and kissed her. For a moment she tried to avert her face, then her lips met his and parted.
'Another time... another place,' Girland said, drawing back.
He again turned on his flashlight and made his way to a chair next to the one Malik was sitting in. He sat down beside him.
'Cigarette?' Malik asked, offering his pack.
Girland took the Russian cigarette and both men lit up.
There was a brief pause, then Malik said, speaking in soft German, 'I want you to know, Girland, I'm working with you. That's why I'm here.'
This statement didn't entirely surprise Girland. He had heard through his various contacts that Malik was out of favour and had been taken out of the active field. He was aware that Malik owed him his life. This man now appeared to be an odd mixture: ruthless, dangerous and clever, but now it seemed there was a sentimental s streak in him.
1969 - The Whiff of Money Page 16